Take Off Your Bra
by darnedchild
Summary: "It's not my fault," Sherlock quietly replied. "I didn't say it was." Molly held her tongue for all of three seconds before she broke. "Although, it really is." (SAW 2020 - Day 3)


Day 3 – Locked in a room/Trapped in a small space/ect

#sherlollyweek2020

**Take Off Your Bra**

"This is ridiculous. I can't believe this is actually happening to me." Molly felt like smacking her forehead against the closest wall. No, actually, she felt like smacking Sherlock's forehead against the wall. If anyone deserved to have some sense knocked into them in a painful manner, it was him.

"It's not my fault," Sherlock quietly replied.

"I didn't say it was." Molly held her tongue for all of three seconds before she broke. "Although, it really is."

She couldn't see him in the pitch-black darkness, but she could hear the indignation in his hissed, "It is not."

Molly scoffed. "It wasn't my idea to sneak into your suspect's office building in the middle of the night."

"I couldn't very well do it in the middle of the day, could I?" Sherlock snapped back.

"I definitely did not ask to be dragged along on your little breaking and entering endeavor," Molly continued, picking up steam.

"I told you, I needed someone with medical expertise to look at those files; and John is spending the week at his sister's."

"I most certainly did not shove myself into a stifling supply cupboard with a trick latch and a bloody stuck door!" She might have been tempted to stomp her foot if there had been more room.

He drew in a deep breath and made an audible effort to try to defuse the situation. "I understand that you are upset-"

"Do you? Do you really?" Molly bit out. "Because I'm not certain that you do."

"Trust me, I am absolutely positive that you are upset right now. You have made that abundantly clear."

She huffed, then decided there was no point to continuing to argue. It wouldn't get them out of the cupboard any faster. Also, she really hated it when they were cross with each other.

They stood in silence for a few minutes. Long enough for Molly to have calmed down completely and started to consider different ways to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Take off your bra."

There was no way he'd said what she'd thought he'd just said. "Excuse me?"

"Your bra. Your breasts are more pronounced than usual, indicating the presence of a brassiere designed to maximize cleavage with the assistance of an underwire support system. Therefore, I need your bra."

It was just as ridiculous the second time.

"I think you'd be better off with some duct tape if you really want cleavage that bad. My undergarments are never going to fit you."

"Hilarious." His tone made it obvious he thought it was anything but.

"I thought so." Molly could imagine the way he must have been rolling his eyes at that moment, and it made her grin.

"I want the wire. I may be able to pick use it to open the door from this side."

As much as she wanted to tell him 'no', the thought of getting out of the cupboard was more than she could resist. "Turn around."

"Why? It's nearly pitch black in here."

Molly crossed her arms and stubbornly refused to move.

She heard him grumble something unintelligible under his breath, but he did shuffle around so his back was toward her. "Fine. I've turned round. Now, can we proceed?"

It took a fair bit of scrambling in the small space to maneuver the undergarment off, but she eventually held it out and wiggled it around until Sherlock took it from her hands. Molly winced as she heard the lacy material rip as he non-too-gently took it apart.

Sherlock knelt, forcing Molly to press her back to the wall of the cupboard to give him room. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. The light from his phone came on, bright enough to practically blind her; and he handed the phone to her. "Aim it here."

She watched him work for a few short moments before her mind began to wander. "Why were you noticing my breasts?"

The hand holding the improvised lockpick slipped and the wire scratched against the wood around the lock. "Pardon?"

"It's not the sort of things friends do, is it?"

He flexed his fingers and went back to work on the lock.

"I don't pay attention to how perky my friend Meena's breasts are on any given day. Unless she asks me to," she quickly corrected herself. "Sometimes you just want someone to tell you that your breasts look fabulous in that blouse, you know?"

Sherlock continued ignoring her.

"Or maybe you don't know," Molly conceded. "Still, I don't wander around looking at my guy friends' crotches, trying to figure out if they look larger than they did the day before. What is the male equivalent to a push-up bra, anyway? I suppose it could be a sock?" She gasped. "I wonder if anyone I know does it?"

His shoulders tensed and rose up toward his ears as if he were trying to make himself smaller.

She could only interpret that one way. "No! Oh my God, are you kidding me? Someone does?"

Sherlock pressed his forehead against the door. "Do we really need to talk about this right now?"

"Yes. Who has been shoving socks down their drawers? Is it Mike in radiology?" she mused. "He seems the type."

He growled her name in a low warning. She bit her lip and let the subject drop. For the moment.

Another thirty seconds passed in silence before she spoke again. "So… my breasts."

"Fine!" Sherlock pushed himself to his feet. His glare was underlit by the light of the phone that she was still clutching in her hands. "Yes, I look at your breasts. I know what they normally look like in the purely functional monstrosities you wear to work. I know what they look like when you've got them trussed up in a fancy bit of lacy like the one I just destroyed." His voice began to rise to a dangerous level considering they were still hiding in his suspect's office and trying to avoid being caught. "And I especially take note when you lounge around your house in your pajamas without a bra at all!"

Neither one of them dared to move for a long moment. Molly actually held her breath. Sherlock looked utterly mortified by his confession.

Eventually, Molly reached out with her free hand and placed it against his chest, over his rapidly beating heart. "There, that wasn't so difficult to admit, was it?"

"What?" Sherlock blinked several times in quick succession. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm a woman, Sherlock. I know when a guy is checking me out." She smiled as if she were about to share a secret. "You aren't as subtle as you think."

Molly pressed his phone into his hand. "You know, if you can get us out of here, I may be willing to let you see what my breasts look like fresh out of the shower. For comparison purposes. If you're interested."

He reached behind himself and pushed the flat of his hand against the door. With only a small hint of protest, the door popped open. "I meant to tell you the lockpick worked, but I got distracted."

She stepped out of the cupboard, relieved to be able to spread her arms and stretch again. "Did you need to look for anything else?"

Sherlock gave the office a cursory look, then shook his head. "I've got everything I need."

"Are you sure?" Molly asked.

He grasped her hand and pulled her into his arms. "Very." His lips brushed against hers in a feather light kiss. "Shower?"

"That can definitely be arranged."


End file.
